


At the End of the Day

by Tish



Series: The Terror Rarepair Week [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Tender Tuesday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 00:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21418924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Goodsir and Gore spend some time together at the end of the day.
Relationships: Harry D. S. Goodsir/Lt Graham Gore
Series: The Terror Rarepair Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542484
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2019





	At the End of the Day

Gore's greeting as he stood in the doorway of Goodsir's tiny cabin was innocent and cheery enough, but his demeanour changed to mischievous joy as he slid the door shut and casually leaned against it, palms flattening the slats shut for as much privacy as could be managed on a ship.

“I've been waiting all day to get you alone, Harry,” Graham said in a warm, conspiratorial whisper.

Goodsir stood and tentatively reached out a hand to Gore's arm, rubbing the fabric of the lieutenant's sleeve as he drew in closer. “It's been such a long day, I was wondering if it'd ever end.”

Gore laughed lightly, saying, “I know the perfect way to end this one,” as he leant in to kiss Goodsir.

Goodsir melted into Gore's embrace, moaning softly into the kiss as his own hands moved down Gore's uniform to rest at his hips. He felt Graham's cock move against his body, aroused by the pressure of their embrace. Still deeply kissing, he rubbed himself against Gore, receiving the gift of a moan in return. Tentatively, he moved one hand to embrace Gore's bulge, the other starting to unbutton his trousers.

By now, Gore had buried his face in Goodsir's neck, breathing heavily against the skin and muttonchops. “We'll make an explorer out of you, yet, Harry,” he sighed as Goodsir navigated to Gore's outstanding southern promontory.

“I want to go everywhere, Graham,” Goodsir replied, panting heavily as he slowly knelt, sliding his body down along Gore's.

Gore responded with a slight moan of disappointment, suddenly without somewhere to plant his kisses, nowhere for his hands to touch, except Goodsir's thick wavy hair. He busied himself with pushing his fingers into the dark hair and braced himself against the wall, shuddering as Goodsir took his prick into his soft, warm mouth. He almost came when Goodsir looked up at him through his eyelashes, eyes deep and dark as night. His fingers curled a little tighter, mindful not to hurt his beloved botanist.

Goodsir traced his fingers along Gore's shaft, dry medical theory and diagrams becoming flesh and responsive to his delicate touch. His tongue worked its way around the head and folds of his foreskin, probing and testing every nerve ending, his own delight growing at each muffled sound Gore made as the lieutenant smothered his mouth with his forearm.

Goodsir's lips worshipped every available inch of Gore's prick, eyes reverent as he looked up to catch every moment of Gore's reaction. Gore gentle stroking suddenly changed to a polite couple of taps on the head, so Gore took him more into his mouth, ready to catch Gore's issue.

Gore's breath hitched in his throat as Goodsir did so, then he came, involuntarily thrusting his hips forward a little. Goodsir gamely took it all in, swallowing as he kept eye contact. Gore dropped his hand from the wall and set it upon Goodsir's shoulder, gently stroking up his neck, his breathing disjointed as Goodsir reluctantly withdrew his mouth.

Gore slowly sank to his knees, level with Goodsir and took his face in his hands, his voice low, “Harry, allow me give you back all the joy you've given me.”

Goodsir blushed and stammered a little, regaining his compose enough to let Gore lead him up to the narrow bed, where Gore knelt again, setting his face between Goodsir's legs. He gently loosened Goodsir's trousers, pushing down his underclothes enough to free his prick, cradling it in one hand, while with the other, ran his thumb up and down the length, agonisingly slow, then faster.

Goodsir braced his feet on the floor, suddenly worried he'd fly up to heaven that very minute, overcome by his rapturous feelings. His head lolled back slightly, but he forced his gaze back to Gore, amazed at the loving devotion Gore was giving him. Gore set his tongue to work tenderly along Goodsir's shaft, swirling around, lips pursing around its width, Gore's eyes crinkling with delight as he watched Goodsir's overwhelmed reaction.

The sound of the sea rushing in his ears, Goodsir clenched his fists, softly clutching at the back of Gore's hair. “Y-yes,” he softly rasped, suddenly coming, part of the spray hitting Gore's cheek.

Gore ran a finger along his cheek, cleaning himself with a smile, licking Goodsir's prick a few more times before he swallowed. Goodsir rapidly blinked, trying to apologise profusely, but just managed to stammer incoherently.

Still between Goodsir's thighs, Gore rested his head on one thigh, looking up with a sweet smile. “Thank you, Harry, I'll dream of this moment.”

Goodsir almost teared up. “Good Lord, I am the thankful one, Graham.”

“We can be thankful for each other until the end of our days, if you'll have me, Harry,” Gore said softly, one hand entwining itself in Goodsir's.

Goodsir felt like he was riding a cloud as he looked down at Gore. “I should like that very much, Graham.”

Eventually, Gore rose to join him on the bed and they huddled together in the cramped space, silent and smiling, heads close as they started to kiss again. Even as the ship's bell rang out, they remained in each other's arms, for there was still a little time to be together.


End file.
